Are you sure that your eyes aren't closed?
by LeKidAllergicToPizza
Summary: You're a young psychologist that goes by the name of KARKAT VANTAS and you may or may not realise that the world is a lot more than what your university reference's books as taught you when you meet a new client. You are SOLLUX CAPTOR and some weird shits happened happens or are going to happens. You're not sure what people are telling you, but then, have they even told you?
1. You are Sollux

Hii!

Imagine myself winking right now. Do it.

Good.

Now, this: Is a perfect example of how not to start a book.

I say book,but we all no it's just a damn shitty publication. It's not like the author will ever send this to an actual publisher, but hey. Lets just play pretend and say it's a physical book so it fits the story better.

And here I am, spoiling you the end of the story already. Yeah. I'm doing it. In fact, I'm doing it right now. The end is shit. I won't lie on it. And there will be a lot of plot twists and character deaths before the end. The actual end ? Oh don't worry. We're all going to die. All of us. Well maybe not you. At least not now. There's no way you'll die on me before you even finished reading this litterature filth that's calling itself a book. While it's not. No fucking way. The end is something you just can't miss, because I'll get back to life just after I first died, indulcing the reader in thinking I actually was dead, but realy wasn't.

Ha. I did it. I spoiled you.

Alright so maybe this was not the best idea i've ever had. So what. It's not like you get to say anything about this or can actualy act on it can you? Of course not. All you are is an oblivious and useless reader so here. Enjoy my story, ungrateful human parcel. I'm all ink and paper on you and let yourself get overwhelmed with it.

First things first, let's get to the beginning:

There were a lot of things unusual about this place. When you first get in it seems like everything's okay, but after a while you start noticing things that shouldn't be this way. You're in one of the uncountable rooms of that weird hotel called 'Spice it'. Don't even ask where the name came from. It's probably a gross sex story that nobody should dare trying to understand the twisted minds of the two mates. Eh eh. This city looked charming from the little publicity board you've found, in one of the coffe place, at your home town.

You hear thunder before you even dare seeing its lightning. There's a dog in the rain, waiting by a window of the front's building. He's looking at the pourring sky tears reflecting on a bench. It doesn't seems like anyone's going to get it. It must be alone. A bit like you right now. It opens its jaw, but you hear no barks. This place is so uncoordinated it's freaking you out. But then again, when are you not?

You might as well just go wandering off in the hotel instead of staying put here, stalking the nothingness of this street, but then. People might be outside of your room and you can't go for now.

You walk away from your previous spot before taking a jacket. It's confy and smells of old leather. You take the time to look for your wallet and your cellphone, but end up only grabbing keys and your pair of gloves. There's nothing worth spending money on it and you can't even get a single phone signal. All you get is the usual sounds that tells you the line's been cut. Maybe it's not the actual signal and you just forgot to pay the bill. Who knows. Not you, that's for sure.

You take one last look at your room before puting on your glasses and heading for the door. You wait in front of it for a moment. You don't hear anyone outside, but there might be a chance there actualy are people and you just can't hear them. It's been several minutes now.

It's about time you actualy do something so you open your door and quickly lock it. Having a room on the sixth floor may means there will be less turbulance than on the first floor, but the elevator being broken, you can't help, but regret the fact of yourself even considering renting this place for a week. What kind of use is it anyways. I sleep like a dead man. It's not like some little noise will disturb my beauty sleep or something.

You finaly convince yourself to go downstairs and stops by the entrance to look for someone. There's this creepy old man that always starts looking weird at some people . You guess you'll have to deal with not knowing where you're headed, because there's no way you'll try starting, even if infinitecimally, any kind of conversation with him.

Once you get out, it's still raining, but not as much as ten minutes ago, meaning you won't get soaked to your bones from a little walk outside. You notice that the dog from before's gone and can't help, but wonder where it could have went. Then again, this is none of your business. This is dog's business so keep your nosy self to your actual self.

There's nobody, but you in the middle of the street. You hear cars, but see nones. the faint lightnings scratching the sky are the only visual attraction out there. You decide you'll head north from your place before you start fossilizing in here.

You pass by a lot of small stores that all seemed to be closed, but then again, you don't give up and continue walking and walking until you get to a suspicious mailbox. It takes everything in you not to open it, but it's also taking all of your selfcontrol away so you don't opend it to investigate its content. It would not be right, socialy. At least, when you do it with a computer you don't look like a creep and no one know you've done it. Digging in a stranger's things in public would definetly be weird, knowing you could be spotted.

'' There's nothing worth it in this mailbox..'' Said a perky voice.

You're not crazy. You know someone talked. Said an actual sentence. And not only they talked, but they talked to 'you'. You turn around, not seeing anyone. It should not be surprising since you already knew there was no one else but you outside.

Then why the fuck are you still hearing this same voice chuckling !?

''Aw don't get all obnoxious with that language of yours! It may be fun to watch, but I actualy need you to be attentive!''

You're starting to fume and sudenly you're falling. You lost your balance. A normal reaction for someone who just got an 'in real life' jumpscare of a girl, two inches from your face, her grin going ear to ear. The only thing is:

You don't touch the ground. Instead you hear another feminine voice calling your name and pointing a door.

Your name is **'SOLLUX CAPTOR'** and you think you may be in a waiting room. At least you were, since now you're sitting on some weird couch-chair like in those therapy scenes in movies and there's this little guy starring at you with his glasses like he just can't believe your face.


	2. You are Karkat

Everything seemed boring. No. Seriously. I totaly felt as if nobody even tried anymore. As if the world itself just acted like some huge asshole and became nothing, but gray. That or I used to be some kind of jerkass bastard in my past life. That is, if I even had one.

That's kind of why I chose to work in the marvelous domain of psychology. I got out of the university not to long ago. It's almost been a whole year since then and i've become somewhat popular in my area. I've got quite a decent amount of regular client. Some paranoïd adults, freaked out children and a decent lot of other cases that you just knew, their problems would never get completely solved. It's realy sad and rather cruel that you're only able to display some sort of fake confort.

Some clients are just so insecure and alone, and sometime you just feel incredibly bad, looking them quit your clinic. You do know that you're actually, pretty useless. Doing nothing realy right. Nothing realy human. Sometime you just want to yell at them, waving in their direction and telling them to come back in. Showing them some of your thoughts. Your real thoughts. Giving them real advice. Not all that crap that your psychology book tells you to tell them. You just want to help and ... and you just can't. Because true, human help would be unprofessional.

At that thought, you enter the small clinical where you work and walk in the hall, all the way to your office and proceed to unlock the door, like you owned the place. 'Which you did'.

You wave at the secretary to say hi and she smiles in your direction. You barely know her. Her name's Roxy. She's the older sister of your aunt's fiancee. It's pretty weird since your aunt's barely three or four years older than you. Fucking huge ass family who get thousands of children just because they can. Wathever. They're a bunch of nice ladies. Roxy can be a bit confusing with her work, at some times, and it can be hard to understand what she's saying and her writting is utter shit, but hey. She can get pretty useful when needed.

You shoot a glance at the waiting room and have to hold the neandertal reflex of spitting the content of your stomach in a disgusting manner on the floor and manage to keep your stern face and hurry the fuck out to close the door of your office to go sit by your desk and get ready for your first client.

You just saw the only client that your guts seems to platonically hate so much. His name's Eridan Ampora and he just keep coming here even though you're sure he could afford a lot of other clinics with way much more experience or even Lalonde's office just aside from yours. His files only says that he keeps getting nightmare of his ex girlfriend. All that ever happens to him in those is that she breaks up with him. Now, he's afraid of dying alone.

You silently hope he does! 'As mean as it sounds'. He keeps bothering you with his unshuttable mouth, telling you how much of a savior you are to him and keep trying to get intimate with you. He's annoying as fuck and you have to keep declining his offers. Since he's some kind of rich asshole he has the possibility to pay for a whole lots of your stupid meetings that you just can't cancel, because it would ruin your professional reputation and you need the money anyways.

You set your papers and call for the rich dumbass, trying to keep your, 'oh-so professional' fakey smile and telling him to sit down, while you're resuming your last meeting. Getting mentally ready for two hours of pure shit.

Two hours and a half later, you're forced to tell him to leave, because even if he can pay for the overtime, you still have other meetings to get on with and you can't afford getting to short in your time.

Once he leaves, sadly for him and happily for you, some dumbfucker with weird ass glasses enter the place and walk to a waiting bench, as if he owned the place. 'Which he didn't!'.

Noticing your astonishment, Roxy procced to telling you about the new boy.

'' Wait. This guy!?'' You asked her.

''Yeah! He's your new client, here's his folder.'' She hands you the folder in question that seemed quite complete, considering its size.

She smiles to you before returning her attention to some kind of retro game that she plays a lot whenever she have a chance. You know it's unproffesional, but you can't be mean to her. No one can. It's Roxy, after all.

You take the folder with layers of multicolore separators for each cases he got. Walking back to your office, you set the stack of papers on your desk. You sit and stare a few seconds at it, trying to get some spiritual motivation before putting on your reading glasses while groaning in irritation since you just made a dirty finger print on the left lens while doing so.

You quickly whipe it off with some triple layered kleenex for fat crocodile tears and put them back on, reading the name that's written in big bold capitals on top of the beige folder.

You read 'S.O.L.L.U.X./C.A.P.T.O.R.' and can't help, but snort at the weird name matching the weird appearance. Eh. Like you're even one to talk.

Your name is **'KARKAT VANTAS'** and you've got quite the amount of reading to do now.


	3. The meeting-Sollux

**SOLLUX**

You are standing here, awkwardly sitting in those sort of therapy comfy chair with this freakish small dude sitting in his chair and glaring at you behind his glasses. The situation goes on for a moment before you hear him let a sigh. Or more like you see him sighing. You're not sure which happened sure, but that's the least of your worry for now.

He finaly acts on taking off his glasses, carefully setting them on top of some sort of folder where you can clearly see your name written on it. The stack of paper looks fairly big and you can't see or rather think of anything that could fill the folder.

It's not like you're that much of a complicated person after all. It's not your fault if people can't follow you.

You look arround trying to look for the creepy girl, but can't find her. You don't know if you're annoyed or thankful for that. It's at that exact same moment that the little guy decides to introduce himself in regards of starting a conversation. It's his job after all. It was about time he started acting something akind to proffessional.

'' Hello, I'm the psychologist Karkat Vantas and I'm here for you. Do you understand what's going on? ''

He looks at you. You look at him. You answer. At least you thought you did before he impatiently go on on explaining you what's going on.

It doesn't bother you that much since you're actualy not sure of what's happening, but it's not like you're going to tell anyone that.

You keep your mouth shut and listen.

'' You've been refered to our offices in mental therapy from the government. They choose us in regards of the proximity of our place from your own living place. You've got governmental therapy checked in your insurances so there's no need to worry about money. Something happened which I don't have that much details on, but from what I've read on your case, it's something quite big, but I won't bother you with that for now. All I'll be asking from you is to talk to me. About anything.''

The carcathe vanase or you don't remember what his freaky name was is looking at you calmly with expectation exalting from his eyes.

He's clearly waiting for an answer. Any kind of word vomit accepted. It's his job to just take it and deal with it until his job's done for this week.

Thankfully, you've got some kind of class. So you spit your sentence without too much actual spit in your sentence.

''What... what do you mean by anything? What ith it you want to know? Like. Do I jutht tell you what'th are my favorite colourth or do I juth't th'traight on go with the whole thpirit animal bullth'hit?''

He didn't call you on your speach impediment. Great decision of him or you wouldn't give him any mercy. Not that you care that much anyways. So what if you talk weird ? At least you do. Most teenagers don't seem to have this luck nowadays with all their shitty slangs.

He looks at you weird for a moment and you think maybe your suspicions about him not calling you on your lisp may be unfounded thoughts until he talks.

''What the ever fu... I mean. What's a spirit animal?''

You force youself not to laugh. Why the fuck would he know about this shit anyways. you, yourself, found out about this bullshit while rummaging through your dashboard on tumblr. You found that weird person that was talking about 'their spirit animal'. Their spirit animal was a chair, because its loneliness and how it was always down on four and letting people sit on them reminded them of themselves and oh, you don't even want to know.

For those who don't actualy know what a spirit animal is, I'm breaking the fourth wall for you, yet again, a spirit animal is a someone, a thing or a living thing that you think represent you, basing yourself on your past and present and what you're seeing yourself as. As an example, MY spirit animal,...

What the ever fuck. I don't have a spirit animal. What am I even saying. Anyway.

''Nevermind. But what th'hould I tell you about?''

I look at him. He looks at me. It seems to be a pattern. You're both okay with it.

He seems to be thinking for some time and he finaly comes up with an answer.

''Just tell me a bit about yourself. Kids things like; what you like and what you don't. A usual day in your life. Little things like that. Is that's okay with you?''

It's my turn to think for a moment.

''I ... gueth'th? Yeah... Yeah. I can do that.''

Except you can't. You don't know what to say. What do you like? Someone needs to tell you. But who? Who should tell you about yourself, but yourself?

You think again. What do you do in your free time. You code. That's right. Sometimes you even play video-games. You don't talk to a lot of people. Why would you? All you need is your work that's funding the craps you pay for. OH that's it. Your work. You like your work. Coding too. Coding 'is' your work.

''I ... I like coding. It'th what I do for a lifetime. I'm an athe to it. And, thometimeth I do other thingth like... I play gameth on my devitheth and little thingth like that.''

You see him taking notes while you can't find anything else to tell him about.

He looks up from his notes to look at you. And again. You find yourself looking at him. Waiting for something to happen. Waiting for what? You don't know Yet. That's why you wait.

''I see. Are you the type of person that goes out or are you more like an indoor person? Reclosed, sorta?''

He goes back to scribbling notes.

''No. At leath't, not usualy..''

He stops and pauses for a second and he asks.

''What do you mean by that? If you don't mind explaining.''

His politeness is infuriating. It was clear from what you've seen from the first 5 minutes of this meeting that he's not the gentleman kind of guy that talks all polite and shit. At the most, he may swear more than you. What a hypocryte.

You mean. He's a pshychologist. How does he expects you to be all honest about myself and straight on tell him all about me when he's clearly wearing a mask. Seriously. I call bullshit on this meeting.

''I actualy mind, but not that much. But hey. Let'th be fair. There'th no way I'll tell you everything about me when I don't know th'hit about you. I mean come on. You're clearly putting on your 'profeth'thionnal' act on me and yeah. No. I'm not okay with telling you all of thith.''

Wow. You've been rude. And you so don't care about it. Do you? You don't think so. Anyways. You must had your reasons thirty seconds ago. Thirty-one. Thirty-two. Thirty-three..

''Oh right. You're that kind of client. Fine I guess. A lot of people actualy ask me to do this so they feel less like it's a one-way talk.''

And there he goes on breaking your efforts thinking you were being original and shit. Was it what you actualy wanted? It seems you can't remember. That's not a problem since there's no way you can go back on what you've already done. Hell, maybe you just doomed yourself.

He goes back to the talking.

''So. As I've told you earlier, I'm Karkat Vantas. I read a lot about mating interest confusion matter as in getting the liking to another of a kind and ..''

You cut him.

'' What. Like. Ith thith thome kind of eathy way to digeth't the fact of telling me you read romanthe bookth? Man, that'th low.''

He fidget with his notes. It seems like you've took him by surprise. He was not expecting that. Not at all. And you like it. Oh. Looks like you've found something to add to your list. You smirk.

He frowns.

'' Yeah so what if I do? They're fine pieces of litterature and they're the kind of things that made me find interest in psychology and thus, gettig myself a job based on what I like. Is that such a bad fu... a bad things to do what I like for a living?!''

Your smirk widdens. Showing more of your prominent canines.

'' Not at all. I do codeth and I like it. Eh.''

He's starting to look unconfortable. Looks like this turned out funnier than what you first thought. What was your first thought? Oh. That's right. You don't remember.

You look to the corner of the room. Expecting the jumpscaring girl from earlier. Was it even 'earlier'? Or was it like. Totaly another day? You can't remember.

''Yeah. Well.. Anyways. So I like romance books and movies too... of the same genre ... I'm not the kind of person that goes out often except for work or getting a nice tea cup. I don't find the interest. I don't have anyone in my life and that's pretty much it.''

He waits. You wait. It's still funny. This guy's funny. He doesn't laugh, you do.

'' Oh my, thith lookth like thpeed-dating. Thith ith pritheleth'th.''

He looks ofended while you're still laughing and grinning.

''Hey! You asked for this! Now it would just be fair to tell me about you! It was part of the deal after all.''

Ha.

''Deal? What deal. I never confirmed juth't went on with your own thought'th dude.''

He looks baffled. Man, this guy keeps getting funnier by the second. You look while he's trying to calm himself.

'' Fine, but still. I'm asking you. Could you tell me a bit more about yourself? ''

You reconsider telling him a few times before you look at the clock besides the door and chuckle.

''Sorry, but it looks like you'll have to wait utill our next meeting. There's no more time left.''

He sighs and salute you. Wishing you a good way back home and you thanks him. How did you know about the end of the meeting? You had trouble remembering why you where even there in the first place.

Something must not be right. You're not right. Or maybe it's not you, but the others? You don't know and you don't care as for right now. All you care about is getting home.

And that's what you do.


End file.
